


Pray For The Wicked

by phinamin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Fucked Up, I don't know man I just needed my Daddy kink fix I guess, M/M, Making Up, Shiro and Keith make up after a few months, Sugar Baby Keith, Sugar Daddy Shiro (Voltron), implied klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-30 00:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinamin/pseuds/phinamin
Summary: Keith keeps chasing after something - someone - that will calm his addiction.Shiro is holding out for something - someone - that will set his own aflame.





	Pray For The Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Quick Fanfic that I found and don't remember when I wrote lmfao. Seriously, I have no idea how this came to be but I am happy that I did find it so I could upload it for Stephanie Michelle's birthday :* HAPPY BIRTHDAY QUEEN OF SHEITH.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little piece of fiction and I would love to read your thoughts in the comments below. 
> 
> Anyways, have fun with this convoluted mess haha. 
> 
> LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH.   
> xx  
> Phi

The smoke curled around his tongue like a snake, ready to spew venom. Every inhale made his lungs burn a little less, calmed down the insatiable fire in his veins. 

People had always told him he got easily addicted. 

When he was younger it was stuffed animals (especially hippos), then as the years past his addiction moved from running to the pain of getting a fist rammed into your gut – and the glory that came with it.

However, much like with any addiction, it escalated to the adrenalin rush of riding motorcycles, kissing a stranger and breathing in toxins. 

The high that came from quenching the jittery need deep within never stayed. No, the hunger inside grew and morphed and Keith knew. 

He knew, that soon the speed of the two-wheeled vehicle wouldn’t be enough anymore, that the nicotine wouldn’t fog up his mind and the lips of a stranger would taste less of adventure and more like routine. 

 

Then what? Well, he  _ supposed  _ there was always skydiving … 

“How long have you’ve been waiting?”

Ripped out of his fantasy of feeling the wind rush by him and feeling, for once, weightless and free as he stared down at the miniature landscapes, he looked up. A displeased CEO stared back, though Keith was fairly certain that displeasure came with the job, not because of him.

Well, usually, at least. 

“Not long.”

“Your nose is red.”

“Hope my ass can soon be too.”

Takashi Shirogane, 40-something and working too much for the money that was piling up in his bank account, let his frown melt into a soft smile. It did things to Keith he’d rather not admit to on this cold November night. 

One time, when they had been coming down from a mutual high, chests heaving with much needed oxygen and throats raw from confessions too close to their hearts - with lips swollen from bruising kisses, Keith had asked into the night. 

‘Why don’t you retire? You have enough money.’

Shiro had licked his lips and suddenly the creases next to his eyes seemed to deepen, aging him up with worry and honesty. 

‘I wouldn’t know what to do.’

 

Definitely not what Keith  _ wanted  _ to hear or  _ expected _ to hear. If he had access to a number with so many zeroes, he’d buy his own freedom from the dark thoughts plaguing him at night and cut the shackles keeping him locked to this dreadful city. 

Shiro had then turned to him, scar on his nose wrinkling from the smile on his lips and dark eyes that had seen too much, sparkling with glee. 

It were moments like these where Keith could see the kind of man Shiro had once been – maybe before the war, before – 

‘Plus, how else would I pay for your extravagant lifestyle?’

‘I never asked you to buy me lingerie from Agent Provocateur.’

‘No, but you like it.’

It was a game, a back and forth to hide why they were actually lying next to each other; like how a magician used misdirection to preserve the illusion of something greater happening. 

Shiro pretended the money was what was keeping Keith close and Keith? He let him. 

“Text me next time you decide to show up at my doorsteps. You still have my number.”

Keith angrily crushed the cigarette under the heel of his boot. 

 

‘You still have my number.’ 

 

It sounded like a question and it hurt. Keith could feel the pain curl up in his gut, almost reminiscent of when a tenth grader had decided to beat up a sixth grader for refusing to give him his lunch money (joke was on the bully because he didn’t know Keith was born to survive and scratch eyes out if he had to. It hadn’t come to that, but it was a close call. Almost got him kicked from school but he couldn’t have been prouder for standing up for himself. His mother bought him a three-scoop ice cream cone that afternoon). 

 

Quickly, he numbed the feeling with more smoke, another cigaret lit between thin fingers.

 

“Yeah. I have it.”

 

Shiro nodded and unlocked the front door to his house (hah, mansion more like) and let his twenty-three-year-old ex-hooker (‘I prefer to call you my sugar baby.’ ‘Call me what you want, I still fuck you for money.’ ‘True. It’s good fucking, though.’ ‘That’s because the money is better.’) enter. 

“Want a drink?”

“Sure. Do you have beer?”

Shiro made a noise as if that question personally offended him and the familiar noise let Keith drop his guard. For just a moment he could see himself walk over to the older man, standing in front of the freezer and to wrap his arms around his waist. He’d kiss the nape of his neck and promise to get all of the tension out of him. Shiro might laugh at that or he might not, depending on his mood. Either way it would end up with Keith’s ass hurting from the very uncomfortable kitchen counter, his legs wrapped around Shiro and those broad hands touching him  _ everywhere.  _

Keith knew, after their first night together, that those fingers would leave deeper marks than Shiro’s lips ever could. Even after the hickeys faded, those phantom touches didn’t. 

“Whiskey or wine.”

Shiro preferred the taste of brown liquor, the sweetness mixed with the smooth numbness. Keith knew, because after all that time he still remembered. Every time he had been at a bar, he felt himself craving the taste of gleaming fire down his throat. It was the closed he could get to the drug he had grown so fond of. 

 

Keith’s cheeks filled with a gray cloud, he let escape between his lips ever so slowly. His eyes tracked as the tendrils curled around the thin air, poisoning it.

“Whiskey,” his rough voice answered. 

While Shiro poured, Keith let himself drown – for a second – in the sensation of feeling unwelcomed in this space he had once called his home. 

 

Nothing had changed: from the heavy velvet curtains, to the leather couch that – before they had fucked vigorously on it – had looked like it was too expensive to even breath at, and the very many lamps and paintings from artists Keith had never heard of. 

It almost felt like the ghost of  _ them  _ was pulsating in these walls. Memories of lazy Sunday mornings were woven into the cashmere blanket draped over the armchair in the corner. If Keith would turn on the TV, he was sure he’d find recordings of ‘How I Met Your Mother’ on the DVR because while Shiro had no pleasure in stupid sit-coms, it had filled Keith’s heart with childish joy to devour a whole box of cereal while watching episode after episode, waiting for Shiro to come home from work. 

 

**Home.**

Fuck. 

“You can sit.”

Keith took the drink Shiro handed to him, feeling the condensation on the chill glass surface mix with the nervous sweat of his palm. 

“Anywhere,” Shiro elaborated as if Keith needed permission. So he went to sit where he should’ve sat the very first time Shiro had invited him from his office to his home. 

 

‘Aren’t you afraid you’ll employees will talk if you constantly let a strapping, handsome looking hooker blow you in your office?’

‘Did you just call yourself handsome?’

‘And strapping too.’

‘I don’t mind that they talk - they do it either way. At least now, it’ll be somewhat true.’

‘And you can make them jealous?’ 

That small smirk that showed the devious mind hiding behind those cool, collected eyes. It had made Keith weak from the very first time.

‘Perhaps.’

A lick across the leaking cock head, tasting the salty bitterness as the longing for more fueled the lustful furnace within him.

‘I learn more about you every day.’

‘Riveting isn’t it. Now, are you going to continue choking on my cock because my meeting starts in ten.’

‘I’ve always wanted to sit in on those. Think your advisors would mind if I rode you while they wa-’

Shiro shoved his cock so far down his throat, Keith could taste him days later.)

 

Shiro had taken him home after, probably deciding Keith was worth a bed since his knees were shaft enough from carpet burn.

The place, unfamiliar and intimidating then, had lead Keith to seek out not the couch to sit on (much like a normal human would) but the comfort of Shiro’s lap. 

With a wicked grin he’d taken a sip of the whiskey Shiro had poured himself even then. The protest shone bright in those steel eyes. It made Keith hungry to see them gleam with something else. 

He swished the liquid around in his mouth, feeling Shiro grow impatient beneath him and finally bend down to kiss him hungrily. 

The sweet liquor dripped down from where their lips couldn’t connect, creating trails and paths for both of them to follow with their tongues later. 

It had given them both a high alcohol couldn’t have done by itself. 

‘Fuck me like I’m yours, daddy~’

Keith had rubbed his ass all over Shiro’s crotch until Shiro decided that giving Keith what he wanted would be for the best.

He still dreamed about that orgasm. 

 

The leather of the couch felt weird under his clothed body as he sat down. He was so used to feeling the cold smoothness beneath his heated skin, the sweat rolling down his overheated body forcing Shiro to have it dry cleaned at least once a month. 

 

“Why are you here?”

 

An easier question would’ve been why he _shouldn’t_ be in his former sugar daddy’s apartment. 

 

  1. He had thrown a vase at Shiro before he stormed out of this place the last night they spend together. 
  2. All the money he had saved up he’d wasted on drugs, alcohol and clinging to a past that didn’t want him. With _him_ , everything was blue and Shiro had once said that the fire should never dance around the ocean. Keith wished he would’ve listened.
  3. The reason he had left was because he’d been afraid of his heart beating out of his chest whenever he had awoken before Shiro and caught a glimpse of a future he never could allow himself to have



 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Liar.”

 

Shiro took a sip of his whiskey, standing by the window. Keith wasn’t sure why his back was turned towards him, but he didn't complain. After all, he’d never get sick of how the street lights made Shiro’s cheekbones look like they could cut glass. 

 

“Lance didn’t come home.”

“You two shared a home?”

 

Leave it to Shiro to dig, dig, dig. 

Asshole. 

 

“No. His home, I guess.”

 

Shiro was shit at hiding the smile full of Schadenfreude. 

 

“Then why didn’t you wait for him?”

“I did. Kind of got tired sitting in an empty house for a month.”

“So you decided to come here, because … what?”

 

Keith was still staring at a back, expressionless as the voice it belonged to. It pissed him off. 

The anger curled around his beating heart and began to squeeze. Not even downing the whiskey helped, the fire just igniting the blood simmering veins. 

 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have come.”   
“That’s not what I said.”

“No, but you might as well implied it, okay? I don’t know why I came here. I don’t -”

“I can’t give you all the answers, Keith.”

 

No, he couldn’t. The last time Shiro had given him an answer, Keith had left him. 

(‘I love you.’

‘No you don’t.’

‘Yes, I do. And you love me.’

‘No I don’t.’

‘Keith, I am sick and tired of playing this game. We both know I’ve stopped paying you since you got your mail forwarded to my place. No. _Our_ place. For Christ's sake, you bought this fucking ugly Hippo lamp for your nightstand.’)

Keith wondered if it was still there. Probably. Shiro seemed like the kind of guy who would torture himself with memories.

 

“I miss coming home.”

 

There it was. 

Keith stared into his empty glass, regretting the rash decision of not even leaving a drop over to numb his tongue that burned with admission and honesty. 

He knew he sounded angrier than he had the right to be. After all, _he_ had been the one to leave. _He_ had run away, like he had done when he was a child - running, running until his muscles burned enough to fill his lungs with smoke - and right into the arms of the ocean. 

He’d known Lance would put a stop to the flames in his heart, would help contain the fog in his brain. 

And he had also known that surrounding himself with a familiar bubble, no matter how bad for him, would always be more comfortable than venturing out and trying something new and giving this thing called ‘happiness’ a shot. 

 

“I missed you too.”

 

Shiro had always been better with saying the truth. Keith chalked it off to him having more life experience than him -- what a dirty lie, but then again that was what Keith was best at.

 

“Can I stay the night.”

Keith knew that Shiro would take what he could get. An addict recognized another addict.

So it was no surprise, when the soft voice agreed.

“Of course. I can sleep on the couch.”

 

Keith’s fingers dug into the leather beneath him. He wanted to dig them into Shiro’s skin. 

 

“You don’t have to.”   
“Keith, I am not letting you sleep on there, you’re the guest.”

 

Fucking gentleman. 

Fucking asshole. 

 

“That’s not what I meant.”

 

When Keith looked back up, Shiro was turned towards him. He hadn’t even touched his whiskey, the brown liquid moving ever so slightly and it was the perfect distraction for Keith’s wandering eyes. 

Shiro was just standing there with his emotions …  _ out there. _  Everybody would be able to see, to relish and bathe in the sheer openness of his heart. __

It was too much. 

Everything was too much. 

He needed his next drug. The next step up from kissing strangers, from fucking men behind clubs. 

But where did it go from here? 

 

“Keith …”

“I know, I fucked up.”

“We all do from time to time.”

“I threw a vase at you when you told me I loved you.”   
“Perfectly normal.”

Keith couldn’t help but smirk at the dryness of Shiro’s humor. 

“I don’t deserve to be here. I shouldn’t waltz back into your life after all of the shit I did, I -”   
“And yet you still came.”   
“I did.”   
“You want to know why?”

“I thought you couldn’t give me all the answers.”

“Is that a no?”

 

Keith stayed silent, knowing his own voice would betray him. But Shiro knew him, so he continued over the silence. 

 

“It’s because you’ll always return and for now … I’ll take it.”

 

The fire burned and burned, spreading through his body. He could taste the smoke on his lungs but for once, it didn’t make him choke. 

 

“I might run away again.”

“Take the keys with you when you do. Maybe leave a note.”   
“Might do some stupid shit while I am gone.”   
“Just don’t bring it back home.”

  
**Home.**

Fucking shit. 

 

Keith’s eyes snapped up from where they were staring at the whiskey glass, realizing Shiro had put it down on the coffee table and was now standing right in front of him. His eyes followed the man going down on his knees in front of him and it hurt. 

It hurt, because he knew that this was an addiction he wouldn’t be able to shake. 

 

“You are a little fucked up.”

“More than a little.”   
“And that’s alright. As a human, you make mistakes. We all do. Then, we suffer from the consequences, use that to grow and move on. It's a perfectly normal cycle. A sucky one, maybe, but normal."

 

When Shiro didn't see what he wanted reflected in those deep purple eyes, he said the most mundane words but to Keith, they were like a magic spell for his anxious mind.

 

"It's alright."

 

Keith pulled his lower lip between his teeth, moving the plum flesh around and eliciting sharp bursts of pain by biting down in contemplation.

 

“Why are you doing this. Why are you so willing to forgive me.”

“Maybe I’m a little fucked up too.”   
“More than a little,” Keith added with a crooked smile. It hurt. 

“... Don’t you think we both deserve a break from it though, from being fucked up.”

 

Keith didn’t know why he wanted to wipe the open expression from Shiro’s face. 

Why he wanted him to be mad at him. 

 

“I slept with him, you know. With Lance. He took me from behind, I rode him. Hard.”

 

Shiro was on eye level with him and Keith must’ve been a masochist almost as much as Shiro because neither of them looked away. 

 

“He made me moan his name.”

“Keith …”

“His hands were all over me.”

 

Keith began to map out where those agile, long fingers had tainted his pale skin. His neck, his collar bone. Down his chest, his waist to his hips. He spread his lips, fingers digging painfully into his flesh as he remembered how much force Lance used when he fucked him. 

Shiro’s eyes followed the imaginary map he created, setting his skin ablaze. 

When Keith took his own hands away from his body, he felt dirtier than ever. 

Filthy. 

Disgusting. 

But leave it to Shiro - asshole, idiot, fucking … - to wash away the sin from his conscious, his soul. 

The kiss was unexpected in its softness. Shiro’s lips tenderly pressed against the pads of his fingers as his robotic hand curled around his wrist. 

 

“I love you.”

“Shiro -”

“I love every part of you. Your past, your present and your future.”

 

Keith was grateful when Shiro stifled his choking sob with his lips, muting the emotions threatening to spill out. 

 

***

 

“Say it.”

 

Keith wasn’t sure how Shiro expected him to say anything with three thick fingers in his hole and his tongue to occupied with moans and groans, rather than words. 

“Shi - “

 

The slight twist of the wrist made Keith’s hips buck up. 

 

“C’mon, you used to love talking, my sweet slut.”

Whimpering, Keith spread his legs even further at that insult, arms twisting against the silk tie Shiro used to retrain his movements. 

 

“Daddy, please I need you -”

“And I need you to say it. Just three little words and I will fuck my cock so nice and deep into you, you’ll feel it for days. Isn’t that what you want?”

 

And asshole accused Keith of liking to talk. If his own dick could get any harder, it would, but it was already leaking precum onto his stomach like a steady leak. 

 

“I … I …”

“I see my hungry cock slut needs to be trained again. Four months apart and you forget how to obey.”

 

Keith sobbed when Shiro took his fingers out of his ass, wiping them off on the sheets. His mouth longed to taste himself on Shiro’s skin. 

 

“N-No, please. Fill me. I swear I’ll be go-good, please daddy. I need … your cock, I -”   
“Do you deserve it?”

 

The question took Keith aback, though the gasp for air was mainly because Shiro had wrapped his hand around his dick, slowly and leisurely stroking him. 

Fucking asshole. 

 

“N-No.”

“And yet you want me to reward you with my cock without even saying what I want to hear?”

 

Keith yelped when Shiro flicked the tip of his dick, the tip angry and red and yet chasing the sensation like a true addict. 

 

“Please Daddy I’ll be good, so good, I swear I will - “   
“Then say it, my sweet slut. Say what I want to hear.”

 

Shiro’s lips were so close but Keith could barely move, the soft tie digging into his skin. He could feel the older man’s tongue trace the imaginary lines Keith had drawn before with his own hands. It left him shaking and wanting more _more_ **more**. 

So, he opened his mouth, forcing his tongue to curl around the words that kept fueling the fire within him. 

 

“What was that?”

 

Asshole. 

He could hear the way Shiro’s voice dipped with the tease, that wicked tongue licking a stripe up Keith’s overstimulated dick. The hum Shiro gave when he tasted Keith’s pre once again would carve itself into his memory forever. 

 

“I said I - _FUCK_. Daddy, right there, fuck **fuck** yes please.”

 

Those lips wrapped around his cock, softly sucking. Keith sobbed, could feel the burning tears slide down his feverish cheeks. 

 

“M-More,  _ nhgnnn, _ I’m gonna cum please please fuck I can’t -”   
“Say it.”

“Daddy please I’m so clo- _ NHGNN _ FUCK.”

 

The heat around him, the wetness doing nothing to cool the desire scolding his gut. 

So, he choked it out when Shiro swallowed down his cum, white smeared across his lips before he licked it away. 

 

“I don’t think I heard you.”

“You fucking assho-  _ oohhhhhhhhhhhh _ shit.”

 

Just the tip. Then more and more and Keith got filled with it. 

The fullness stretching him, almost making him burst. He quickly wrapped his legs around Shiro, his heels digging into the other’s tailbone.

 

Addiction, pure and raw. 

 

“Fuck yes. Move. Move, daddy, please I need you to -”   
“I didn’t think you’d be so greedy after cuming already,” Shiro interrupted him with a smirk, though it looked strained. 

It was a nice stroke for Keith’s ego. 

 

“I am with you.”

 

The admission, right after the other one, was almost enough to reveal the cracks in Keith’s damaged heart. But with each thrust, each moan and grunt it seemed to glue them together. Not perfectly, there would be scars and marks but maybe Keith wouldn’t break so easily this time around. 

Shiro, at some point, found it in himself to slow the pace and untie Keith so he could rake his fingers over the older man’s scared back, leaving lines of red. 

 

“Shit, you’re so tight, babe, fuck, taking me so well.”   
“Lance is tiny.”

 

Shiro paused mid thrust and stared at Keith, who almost seemed as surprised about the admission. A soft laughter bubbled out from Shiro’s chest, before turning into a full on bender of overflowing emotions. Keith joined, chuckling and tightening his hold on Shiro. 

 

“Savage, babe.”

 

Babe. 

First  **home** , now babe. 

 

“Just saying the truth.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot tonight.”

 

Keith, with an ass full of cock, couldn’t find it in himself to hide his blush. 

 

“Hey man, maybe you’re dick is magical.”

 

No redirection here, just real magic. Shiro chuckled and bend down to kiss Keith’s swollen lips. 

 

“I love you.”

 

And maybe, if Keith were more broken and a little less fixed he’d say ‘I know.’ Instead, he smiled against those lips - genuine, because Shiro’s magical dick was still inside of him, twitching and ready to ruin him again and again. 

 

“I love you too.”

 

Because even if Keith was good at lying, it was time for a new addiction. The truth sounded pretty appealing. 

This time, Shiro didn’t tease him. Instead, he began to move his hips slowly as their tongues tasted each other. 

Heat was simmering beneath them, the fire subdued for now. 

 

The next morning, Keith once again woke up before Shiro and when he looked at the sleeping man, he allowed himself to grasp the future laid out so plain before him; and when he turned to the side, back pressed against Shiro’s front, a heavy arm grounding him in the present and perhaps ready to guide him towards the future, his eyes fell upon the hippo lamp on the nightstand table. 


End file.
